


A Soldier's Love

by gliese581



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-10-18
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gliese581/pseuds/gliese581
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Scenes from "A Soldier's Love."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Convoy In Afghanistan

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Soldier's Love](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/4986) by pixie_queen24. 



Cook was as thorough as he could be when he did a final inspection of his Humvee. He gave the bolted-on armor a good once-over, making sure it was bolted to the chassis correctly and there weren't any large gaps in between the plates. Cook also gave the thick tires a squeeze to make sure they were inflated with enough air as he shimmied out from under the vehicle. The last thing he needed was something falling off, the tires getting stuck in the terrain, or even the engine giving out during the transit to FOB Midwest Kings, the Forward Operating Base his company was to be stationed.

Cook knew what to do if he was ever attacked while dismounted, his M4 carbine was a constant companion whether it had a magazine in it or not, but he'd rather be safe than sorry. Especially for Archie's sake. Cook made sure to file away thoughts of the younger man in his mind when in the field, but in the heavily fortified Airfield he was in, thoughts of Archie slipped through his mental walls. Something must have tipped off his Sergeant about his thoughts when the other man rounded the wall that partitioned the vehicle lot and the rest of the Airfield.

"Get your head back in the game, Cook." Then to all of the soldiers like him inspecting their Humvees, "Captain wants us to form up near the command vehicle. He's gonna say a few words and the LT's doing an inspection himself before we head out."

Finding and forming up with the rest of his platoon was not too difficult, but listening to the Captain drone on about how "we will get through this as a team" and how he's "going to make sure we work hard and do the best job we can" without yawning was pretty damn hard. Sure they're a team, insomuch as Cook and the rest of the lower ranking enlisted soldiers will get the brunt of the work, be yelled at to work faster, and the officers like the Captain will get all of the credit.

The LT's inspection and pep-talk was a little better. At least Cook had a lieutenant who actually knew a thing or two, the other platoons in his company were saddled with smooth-faced kids as a CO.

"We're headed through some of the roughest patches of the entire theater so keep your eyes open and heads on a swivel. Do your jobs and you'll all get through this. Any questions?" When no one spoke up, "alright, we're Oscar Mike in fifteen."

As the LT left the vehicle staging area, Cook turned to his vehicle mates, his Sergeant and three PFC's like him. "Who's driving?"

**********

"I can't believe you rednecks used farting logic to get me to drive. Whoever said it drives the Humvee, my ass." Cook sniped as he kept the Humvee in line with the column of armored vehicles in front of them.

"You lost fair and square, dude!" Someone yelled from the back. "So stop with the bitching already."

Cook made sure to hit the next hole in the road hard instead of avoiding it. There was a series of crashes as all the junk in the Humvee fell back onto the bare metal of the interior. Christian slammed his fist on the roof panel around the turret he was manning and yelled down an annoyed "hey, watch it!"

"Man, you're driving's worse than my girlfriend's -" The rest of the comment dropped off when the LT's voice boomed over the radio with an order to stop the convoy. Cook immediately sobered up and stepped on the brakes before they slammed into the cargo truck in front of them.

It was eerily quiet as the entire line of vehicles came to a stop and everyone fell into hushed professionalism. The rumbling of the engines gave way to static on the radio, as if someone was trying to come up with the words to express something.

"Engineers up ahead think they found something." The LT didn't sound very happy about the situation. Hell, even Cook knew there were only a few ways this could pan out. Either the engineers really did stumble onto something accidentally or they found a decoy that was meant to be found and stop the convoy in preparation for an attack.

An eternity seemed to pass before the LT's voice came over the radio again. "The engineers think they found a weapons cache in a schoolhouse up ahead. The FAC is calling in an airstrike to take it out, now. We'll be Oscar Mike again after it drops."

Almost like a switch was thrown, everyone tried to scamper up to the roof to get a better look. The Sergeant just rolled his eyes. Cook itched to climb up too, but he knew he needed to be at the wheel if they needed to move out quickly.

Just as he was starting to relax, a short "impact!" echoed through the radio and a deafening boom hit his ears a split-second later. The sound of whooping and calls of "did you see that?" went up as the rumbling left Cook's ear. Even from inside the Humvee, Cook made out a rising column of thick black smoke in the horizon.

The convoy slowly started moving again after the LT let out a terse "let's go people" over the radio. As they made a turn on the road, later, Cook was able to see the flaming wreckage a few hundred yards away from the road. While everyone kept talking about how cool the scene was, Cook didn't feel like celebrating.

 _There weren't any secondary explosions. Which means there probably weren't weapons in the school. We blew up a goddamned school for no reason. How can we expect the people to work with us if we blow up their schools?_


	2. "After Action Report - Incident: August 3, 2011"

The convoy kicked up a miniature sandstorm as it rolled out of the Forward Operating Base's vehicle lot and rumbled towards the gate. The two posted sentries pushed the metal barriers out of the way as they approached, letting the three Humvees turn into a narrow dirt road that ran in front of the FOB.

"I fucking hate this road." The soldier on the other side of the Humvee muttered as they navigated down the winding road. "The lead victor gets hit and we're all fucked."

Cook couldn't help silently agreeing with the guy. The unpaved road was barely wide enough to let a single column of Humvees through. They could probably reach out and touch the waist-level stone walls bordering the road as they drove by. There was no room for the convoy to maneuver if something really did happen to them.

That's what made everyone in the convoy hyper-aware of the dusty surface, hoping not to find a stretch of disturbed dirt on or around the road. The engineers combed the road looking for IEDs and roadside bombs every two days, but they weren't omniscient. Their only real protection was instinct, a sharp eye, and dumb luck.

"Why're we going to that bumfuck village, anyway? Captain Doughboy must be losing his mind." The guy up on the turret snorted at the nickname.

The unofficial nickname of the Captain in charge of the infantry company was apparent when anyone saw the man. It was as if the man's mission in life was to become the flesh and blood version of the Pillsbury mascot he was named after. Cook had no idea how the man managed to pass his fitness exams.

"Unless you wanna explain to the sarge why the resupply trucks aren't gettin' through to the FOB, we're gonna smile, talk to the elder, and deliver the medical supplies we promised." An exasperated response came from the front of the vehicle.

The village sat smack dab in the middle of the dirt road, which connected Midwest Kings to a three-lane artery that brought trucks of supplies to the FOB every couple weeks. Without a connection to the wider road, the base would quickly run low on necessities and would have to rely on Chinooks to fly in supplies. Cook knew that the medical supplies would go a long way in strengthening their friendly relationship with the village and keep the vital resupply route open.

"You two are those guys from Special Troops, right?" Cook looked away from the window when Christian didn't say anything. "Yeah, we're 2nd Platoon, what about it?"

"I've never seen you guys do anything other than sit on your asses in that shack. What do you guys in MI fuckin' do all day?" Cook and Christian didn't even have to think about their answer.

"Fucking paperwork."

**********

Cook heard snippets of the conversation the elder and LT were having through a translator as he passed them, carrying boxes of supplies into the small clinic at the center of the village. They were mostly talking about the state of the road and if there were any strangers poking around. To Cook's stilted Pashtu, it sounded like the elder was saying everything seemed as normal as possible given the current state of things.

Some of the more curious boys peered at Cook and the other soldiers from the clinic's courtyard, and Cook couldn't help but think back to the talk he'd had with Archie about having kids someday. He was surprised how seemingly carefree and happy the kids were, even in this village in a country gripped with an insurgency.

"You and Archie ever talk 'bout kids?" Christian piped up when Cook came into the squat building, using his freaky ability to pick up on what Cook was thinking.

Cook deposited the box of multivitamins on the floor and plopped down onto the concrete surface to sort everything out. The chewable tablets went into the growing pile near his left and the rest went to a similar stack on his right.

"We talked some." Cook said as he chucked a miscellaneous box of latex gloves towards its own pile at the far side of the room. "But, who knows what'll happen. We don't even qualify as adoptive parents in some states."

"Or one of you can donate some jizz. I know you don't have trouble with that. You're not that sneaky when you go out for a combat jack." Christian joked, throwing a wadded up piece of paper at his friend's head.

Cook's face was scrunched up with horror and embarrassment. "Dude, gross! How the hell do you know that?"

"Everyone's been doing it, dude." Christian said after letting out a laugh. "Hey, but I better be your future kid's godfather. I'll fight people for it if I have to."

"I dunno man, Neal isn't a weakling or anything and Andrew might go cry to mom." Cook answered.

"Privates Hale and Cook, you speak passable Pashtu, correct?" The LT interrupted as he surveyed the chaos. "I didn't request you two for menial labor. I want you two to make some friends and get to know the natives."

"Yes, sir." They echoed as they got up to their feet as the LT yelled out for another Private to take over. Christian headed for the village square, but Cook waved at the playing children and walked towards them.

Usually, children were more willing to talk to them than the adults if given the right incentive, and the hard candy he kept in his vest pocket was the best kind of reward. Sometimes, even a story about seeing a monster skirting around in the dark could be as valuable as video from a Predator drone flying overhead.

Just as he thought, the candy did the trick. Cook was able to pick up the larger parts of what the children were saying. They all had a common thread of dark figures roaming the village and road at night. That kind of connection between their stories was cause for some concern for Cook, but he made sure to smile and hand each child the sweets he'd promised.

Cook watched, with a pang, as the kids greedily devoured their treats. Back home, parents were trying to cut down on the amount of sugar their kids ate, but here, even a drop of candy was worth its weight in gold.

Later, as they all gathered back around their vehicles to hear the elder thank them for their generosity, Cook wanted to do more to help. Christian must have felt the same because the other soldier gave him a tight smile as they climbed into their vehicles.

**********

The drive back up to the FOB was a little less tense than the drive down, mostly because they were headed back to their makeshift home.

Cook was itching to write Archie a letter about the kids he'd met and how just a little bit meant so much to the people.

One minute Cook was listening to the guys in the Humvee joke about something one of them had done and the next, the vehicle was suddenly thrown, as if they were rear-ended and t-boned by a semi at the same time. A deafening boom battered his ears a split-second later, and then there was absolute silence.

It was as if someone had turned the world mute and punched him repeatedly in the head. Cook's vision refused to focus and all he could feel was a blinding pain in his abdomen. The physical pain was excruciating, but it was the thought of Archie, his Archie, being alone that hurt the most.

Cook saw a vision in the acrid smoke that began billowing into the cabin. Archie was sitting at his piano and smiling blindly down at him. His last thought was, _Archie_ , before the world faded into black.


	3. "Casualty Report - Incident: August 3, 2011"

The world was almost peaceful when Cook opened his eyes and stared up into the clear blue sky, disoriented and not knowing where he was. The sun in his eyes was too bright and he almost sighed in relief when a dark shadow washed over him, blocking the sun from view.

The person-shaped shadow shined a penlight into his eyes and the medic, Cook brain slowly spat out, told him to "try and follow the light." Apparently the medic was satisfied with what he saw, because he said a low "you seem fine enough," and the glare from the sun came right back into Cook's vision.

A sudden thought shot through Cook's brain and he bolted upright, _Chris_.

It took a moment for his head to stop throbbing from the sudden movement, and when it did, Cook's eyes and ears were filled with complete chaos. There was a blackened, twisted hulk in the middle of the road, thirty meters or so away, and there were pained ramblings and soldiers yelling to each other.

The medic shot him a disapproving look, but Cook didn't really care and tried to climb to his feet - he needed to find _Chris_. Cook fell back onto his ass and the medic muttered something about boneheaded idiots, before giving Cook a sharp look. "If you really want to help, we need someone to watch Private Hale."

"Where?" Cook almost demanded, as he tried to stand up again. "Is he okay?"

The medic helped him up with a deceptively strong grip. "He was lucky, he just has a concussion. Just keep him from falling asleep and you'll both be fine." There was a yell for someone named Burke, and medic pulled Cook towards a makeshift recovery area. "Stay here and watch him."

Cook watched the medic run towards whoever was apparently calling him, before he heard Chris's raspy hello. Cook slowly made his way towards his friend, no, Chris was just as much a brother as Drew was by now. "Glad you're okay, asshole."

"Same to you, jackass." Chris winced as he sat up and braced himself up against a boulder. "Fuck, easy mission my ass."

"Archie and Jackie are gonna freak if they hear about this." Cook remembered how he'd told Archie that he wasn't going to be in as much danger as the infantry guys. That didn't seem at all true, now.

Chris squinted at Cook in reply. "We keep this to ourselves and we both get chewed out if the Army tells them about it, deal?"

Cook had to smile at that. "Yeah, sure, dude."

It was almost like they were back at the FOB, not in the middle of the road with a bombed out humvee and other soldiers forming a perimeter around the scene. Looking at the loose ring of soldiers, Cook realized that he didn't have his M4 with him. He whipped his head around, looking for the carbine, and found the weapon near where he first woke up.

"I'll be right back, don't fall sleep." Cook didn't wait for an answer and quickly made his way to his discarded M4. He was away from Chris for maybe a minute, two at most, but when he turned to look back at his friend, Chris was slumped sideways on the dusty ground.

Shocked by the sight, and the medic's instructions ringing in his brain, Cook grabbed the carbine by its sights and ran back to Chris' unmoving form. Cook's heart was racing when he dropped down next to Chris, as if it was trying to break out of his chest. His heart slowed down a bit when he saw that Chris was still breathing.

"Hey, Chris, wake up." No response, not even when Cook gently shook him. "You gotta wake up, dude." Cook shook Chris a little harder, trying to see if that would help.

To his relief, there was a groan, and Chris groggily opened his eyes. Cook almost laughed when Chris shot him an annoyed look and slowly ran a hand over his short hair. "Dave? What are you doing here? Where are we?"

Chris' statement froze Cook on the spot, and his blood went ice-cold. "Dude, we were hit by an IED, remember?"

Recognition slowly, briefly flitted over his eyes, and Chris smiled. "Oh yeah, that's right." A beat later, "I'm getting sleepy all of a sudden." It took a moment for Cook to decipher the heavily slurred words.

"No, Chris. Don't go to sleep." Chris blinked sleepily up at him, but didn't say anything. "You have to stay awake." Cook looked around for the medic, but couldn't find him. It was like trying to find a hay-colored needle in a haystack. "Uh, tell me about Jackie. How'd you guys meet?"

Chris shot him a frustrated look. "You know how we met. Just let me sleep."

It was a struggle to keep Chris from closing his eyes. The shaking started not being enough to do the job. Chris would close his eyes and then Cook had to shake him and lightly slap him on the face to get Chris to wake up again.

A sudden and incongruous thought popped into Cook's brain. "You said you'd be godfather for my kids, dude. Don't break your promise, now."

"I'm sleepy, not dying. Go away." Chris suddenly slumped over in Cook's arms and they almost fell to the ground in a heap.

"Chris?"

A twitch behind his closed eyelids.

"Christian, wake up."

No response.

"Christian!"

Cook's eyes were prickly as he held back from letting his tears fall.

_"Medic!"_


End file.
